Run
by McGeeklover
Summary: Sam looked at Dean and then John, chest heaving before he spoke in trembling voice. "I c-can't do this anymore." And with that, he got up from the ground and ran into the woods…he just wanted to get away from everyone. From his dad, from Dean, from this fucked up life he was dragged into.He really wished he never found dad's journal. Teenchesters! Hurt!Sam Big Bro!Dean Guilty!John


**Run**

**Hey all! Haven't done a SPN fanfiction in a while! This one literally came to me in a dream I had, lol. Hope you like it.**

**Teenchesters- Sam is 13 and Dean is 17**

Sam groaned when he heard the rumble of the Impala outside the cabin door. Dad was back and that meant more training that he didn't want to do…and more verbal abuse. He would rather be working on his homework or practicing for the soccer game this coming Saturday, but John wouldn't let him.

"You gotta learn this, Sam," he would say. "It's more important than homework."

_More important than being normal._ He just wanted to be normal for once. Why couldn't their dad understand that? He ran his fingers through his moppy hair, wishing Dean would get back from the local store to get "dinner." And dinner was usually a bag of chips and some canned soup. With Dean here, dad wouldn't get rough…a couple times, besides the harsh words, the man would push him around or grab his arm tight enough to create a bruise. Of course, he never told Dean that, because his brother would flip shit if he knew.

"Sam!" John gruffly called out. "Get your shoes on!"

The young Winchester turned around in his seat when he heard John's footsteps in the room. "Why?" That was always his response. He didn't know why, it was just the first thing out of his mouth.

"Don't ask why, Sam, just do it."

Grumbling, he hopped out of the chair and pulled on his sneakers before following John out to the side of the yard where an old target was nailed to a tree.

"We're working on your crossbow aims. They've been slacking lately."

"Dad, I don't want to do this," Sam whined. "I've got a ton of homework and the soccer game in a few-"

"That's tough, Sam, but homework and soccer isn't gonna protect you from the monsters that are out there." John picked the crossbow out from the trunk he had hidden under the cabin and tossed it to Sam. "Load it up and aim for the center. Do this until you hit it thirty times."

"But Dad-"

"Sam, _do not_ argue with me today, I swear to God."

"Or you'll do what, huh?"

John just glared at him and Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He lifted up the heavy crossbow, it shaking in hands. He tried to aim for the target and when he pulled the trigger, the arrow whizzed past the tree.

"Go get it and try again."

Sam gave John a look before going into the bushes to grab the arrow. He really hated this. Why was it so bad to wanna be a regular thirteen year old kid?

"Focus Sam," John grunted, crossing his arms as Sam loaded the bow once more. And he missed again…and again…and again. And John was losing his patience.

"Sam, what the hell is going on with you? You're better than this. Dean was eight when he got the target six times in a row, so why can't you?"

"Well, sorry I'm not the perfect hunter that you want…the one that doesn't want to be a freak!" Sam shouted, throwing down the bow. He's had it. "I'm sorry Dean is better at being the perfect son!"

John frowned angrily and grabbed Sam's arm roughly. Just as he was, Dean was coming back from the store when he heard Sam's shouting. John must've had him training again and like always, the kid had to argue about it. He rounded the corner just in time to see John grab Sam's bicep before throwing him to the ground.

"That's right, Dean is the perfect son and right now, you are a pathetic excuse for one! Why can't you be more like your brother?!"

"Hey!" Dean barked, storming over.

Sam had tears in his eyes and he looked like he was about to break any second. "Sammy?" He said, getting ready to help him up.

His brother looked at him and then John, chest heaving before he spoke in trembling voice. "I c-can't do this anymore." And with that, he got up from the ground and ran into the woods…he just wanted to get away from everyone. From his dad, from Dean, from this fucked up life he was dragged into. He really wished he never found dad's journal.

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he watched his little brother disappear into the trees. "Sam is your son…how the hell could you say that to him?" He growled at John. Without waiting for a response, Dean took off after his brother. Because if he didn't stop the kid, he was gonna end up having an asthma attack…and he couldn't watch that happen again. "Sammy!"

Sam gasped harshly as he ran down the hill as fast as his legs could take him. What John had said to him…it hit him hard. Did he not want him as a son? Even being the hard ass that he was, they were still family. At least he thought they were. _Why can't dad love me for who I am…who I want to be?_

_"I don't love you, Sam. I will never love you; you're not a hunter like your brother. You never will be,"_ John's voice echoed in his head and it made him cry harder. He had been so preoccupied on getting the hell out of that place that he forgot that he shouldn't be running, especially since his inhaler was back in the room.

_"Sam! Stop!"_

Dean's deep voice carried through the air and it made Sam run faster. If his brother caught him, he would bring him back to dad and he didn't want that. He wanted away from this life. He wanted to do homework, go to a school for more than two weeks and play soccer like a normal thirteen year old kid. Instead he was shooting guns and arrows and worrying about the monsters under his bed that were actually real. That would rather kill him than scare him. He hopped over a beaten fence and kept running, disregarding how tight his chest was getting. If he could just get out of Dean's sight and hide for a while, he could circle back, quickly grab his things and go somewhere else.

_"Sammy, stop running, dammit!" _

Dean's voice was getting a lot closer which meant _he_ was getting closer. Sam cursed the fact that he had shorter legs and the odds were slowly going against him. He willed himself to go faster even though he was having a really difficult time breathing, his gasps coming out as violent wheezes. Sam looked over his shoulder to see Dean gaining on him and when he turned back, he didn't see the dip in the ground and he lost his footing, taking a nosedive into the leaves. A sharp pain shot up through his ankle and he cried out…but he didn't let that stop him. Getting back up, Sam started limping as fast as he could…however it wasn't good enough…like always. He was _never_ good enough. Dean tackled him to the ground before he could get any further and all the oxygen he had left in his lungs flew out. As did all his emotions. He choked for a breath, panting frantically when he couldn't take in any air. Sam fisted Dean's leather jacket and looked up at him fearfully.

"Easy, little bro," Dean soothed as he cradled his brother and took out the spare inhaler he always had with him, gently placing it between Sam's lips. "Deep breaths kiddo," he said, giving him a couple puffs of the medication…but it didn't seem to be working. Sam's lips were turning a shade of blue and his eyes were struggling to stay open. "Sam!" He jerked him awake and sat him up against his chest. "Come on, Sam." He pressed down on the tube a few more times before he finally noticed some change.

Sam gulped in hungrily, coughing and wheezing and sobbing hysterically. Dean clutched him to his chest, resting his head on the kid's messy brown hair, rubbing his back and rocking back and forth. "Easy dude, just take it easy. I'm right here." He hated when Sam cried. For whatever the cause may be, he hated seeing his little brother so hurt. "It's okay, buddy."

Sam gripped the back of Dean's jacket, crying into his shirt and shivering violently while trying to get his breathing back to normal. After three minutes, the wheezing stopped and Sam started taking deeper, easier breaths. After ten minutes, he finally stopped crying, but that didn't prevent the two brothers from holding onto each other. They were in the middle of the woods, surrounded by nothing but trees and the silence in the air. It was actually kind of peaceful.

"M's-sorry…Dean," Sam spoke weakly.

The older brother frowned and looked down at Sam. He carded his fingers through the kid's brown locks, knowing that it always soothed him no matter what age they were. "No…you have nothing to apologize for, Sammy. I mean, maybe for making me run like that, but nothing's your fault."

"But dad-"

"Dad's an ass. And I should've been there to have your back. I know you're still getting used to all this hunting crap. It takes a while."

Sam sniffed and removed his face from Dean's shirt, wiping his nose on his own sleeve. He looked up at his big brother and smiled weakly.

"Let's go back, 'kay?" Dean said, ruffling Sam's hair and slowly helping him to his feet. The asthma attacks- though rare- usually left Sam exhausted and Dean could already tell the kid wanted to sleep by the way he rubbed his eyes. "Come on, I'll give you a piggyback ride…like old times."

Sam smirked as Dean crouched over so he could jump onto his back. Once he was safely on, Dean began the trek back up to the cabin. _This'll be fun._ "You know, Sammy," he grunted. "For a thirteen year old, you sure are heavy. Are you sure the only thing you eat is salad?" He waited for a response and when he received none, Dean peered behind him to see Sam's head resting on his shoulder and eyes closed. He was already out, poor guy. Dean snorted and hiked Sam higher on his back.

By the time they reached the cabin, Dean was huffing and puffing. He freakin' hated hills and nature. He'd rather be staying in a motel right now. The Impala was gone from the driveway, so that meant John was gone. Typical. Dean went into the house and towards the small bedroom he and Sam shared. He turned his back to the bed and carefully let Sam slide off of him and onto the mattress before pulling off the kid's shoes. Dean then noticed the small gash on his brother's head and realized he must've gotten it when he fell.

"Sam," he said, grabbing some of his brother's pajama pants and a t-shirt. "Sammy." He shook the kid gently and smirked when his eyes fluttered open.

"What?" He replied tiredly.

"Put on your pajamas. I'm sure you'd rather me not do it, huh?"

Sam rubbed his face and nodded; in a couple moments, he changed his clothes and got underneath the covers, Dean tucking him in. Once his little brother was comfortable, Dean pulled out the first aid kit and cleaned the wound, putting a butterfly bandage over it when he was done.

"Oh, Sammy," he sighed, smoothing back the kid's bangs. "What am I gonna do with you?" Sam wanted to be normal and he also wanted him to have a normal life…but it wasn't that easy. It never was in their family. Dean wiped his mouth and flicked on the TV, muting it so the sound wouldn't disturb Sam. He toed off his shoes and sat next to his slumbering brother, propping himself against the headboard.

It was two in the morning and Dean had been dozing off when he heard the cabin door open and heavy footsteps coming towards the room. His eyes snapped open and he stealthily moved over to his bed to grab the gun hidden under his pillow. He went back over to Sam and waited for the intruder to come in…but the intruder was John.

Dean rolled his eyes and put the gun on the nightstand. "Dad, what the hell?"

"Sorry. Sammy sleeping?"

"Yeah," Dean replied flatly, blocking Sam protectively.

John pursed his lips and pinched his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry-"

"You shouldn't be apologizing to me," Dean snapped and then lowered his voice when Sam stirred. "Sam is your son, dad, and you should treat him like one. He may not be the perfect hunter you want him to be, but he's only thirteen. He wasn't brought up into this like I was. Let him have his way…just once." And then he saw the gift bag in John's hands. "What's that?"

John rubbed the back of his head. "It's uh…a present for Sam."

"You think that's gonna fix everything? After you physically hurt him like that?"

"No…but it's a start. Can I have a moment alone?"

Dean hesitated, but got up and left the room, standing out in the hallway. John walked over, knowing Dean was probably keeping a sharp eye on him. He sighed and sat next to his youngest son. The kid looked pale and there were scratches on his face along with a bandage on his forehead. His breathing sounded a little scratchy so he had no doubt Sam had another asthma attack._ Great job, John._

"Sam," he spoke gruffly, resting his hand on the boy's arm. "Sammy?"

Sam groaned, his face scrunching up before the big brown eyes made an appearance. He frowned and sat up, looking around for Dean, seeing that he was gone. _Great._

"Dad." He said quietly.

John smiled sadly and took what he had out of the bag and held it up. It was a brand new soccer ball. "Sam, I'm…I'm sorry for the way I've been acting towards you. I'm sorry you got dragged into this hell in the first place. I never wanted it for you, believe me. I know you just want to be normal. I love you and Dean to death; I just want you to be prepared because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got hurt. So…we can stay here until school is over and you can play soccer."

Sam slowly took the ball and stared at it for a moment before glancing back at John.

"I know…I know it'll take a while to earn your trust back, Sammy, but I will do whatever it takes. You're my son, kiddo, and I just want you to be happy, okay?"

Sam remained silent for a moment before he smiled weakly and nodded, tears welling in his eyes. "Okay, dad. I'm sorry, too," Sam replied, putting down the ball.

"You have nothing to apologize for, buddy," John said, bringing Sam into a hug. "Nothing at all." He ran his hand over the boy's hair and closed his eyes. He heard Sam sniff and he gripped him tighter. He hadn't been a very good dad lately and he should've seen Sam was struggling. He always forgot that he was just a kid and he wished that he still had his innocence…no knowledge of the monsters lurking under the bed. He needed to change act…he needed to be a better father. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

Dean stood in the hallway with a smile on his face. This was a rare moment between his little brother and his dad when they weren't butting heads…finally getting along. He just hoped it would last longer than a week.

**Fin! I apologize if the characters might've seemed a little OOC, it's been a while since I wrote an SPN fanfic :p Thanks for reading!  
REVIEWS!**


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